


In Hours Of Bliss We Oft Have Met

by khazadspoon



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Thomas and his books
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 06:49:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10939200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khazadspoon/pseuds/khazadspoon
Summary: Books became an escape from the dull boredom of reality.Miranda introduced him to the pleasure of Chaucer and Cervantes. He would spend hours reading to her, reading with her, and discussing the texts until they had explored every avenue of interpretation they could think of. He treasured those moments.Then he met James.





	In Hours Of Bliss We Oft Have Met

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Char7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Char7/gifts).



> Title comes from a poem by William Congreve:
> 
> “In hours of bliss we oft have met:  
> They could not always last;  
> And though the present I regret,  
> I'm grateful for the past.”
> 
> I spent a good few hours looking up books and crying with my friend about Thomas and his love of books and freedom. So there we go.

Reading was a pastime Thomas would never take for granted. As a boy he had read what his tutors and father had told him to read. As a young man at school he had chosen books for the first time and found himself transported to new places with people he would never meet. He managed to read in every moment he had spare; sitting in his bed at night, at dinner with his school friends, and even when bathing once or twice.

Books became an escape from the dull boredom of reality.

Miranda introduced him to the pleasure of Chaucer and Cervantes. He would spend hours reading to her, reading  _ with  _ her, and discussing the texts until they had explored every avenue of interpretation they could think of. He treasured those moments.

Then he met James.

Lieutenant McGraw was an educated man, with a sharp mind he kept under lock and key. Thomas was immediately intrigued by the man. He wanted to uncover all the secret knowledge McGraw held and shine a light on it, as though that would illuminate the man himself.

The first book he lent James was  _ Ethics  _ by Spinoza. He had read the book three times himself, had memorised passages to use at salons and in Parliament. Most of his peers despised his penchant of quoting literature to further his points, but he did so in spite of them. What fun would life be without teasing those boring old buffoons?

“Well?” He asked when James returned with the book under his arm. “What did you think? Don’t spare me, I want to know  _ exactly  _ what your opinion is!”

James considered for a moment, his jaw tensing and relaxing as he thought. His face was beautiful in thought; his eyes squinted, wrinkling adorably at the corners, his lips pursing… Thomas had felt the urge to kiss him or at least  _ touch  _ him during many of their discussions because of that face.

“I agree with some of the points but… it is rather impractical to think in such ways,” James said at last.

Thomas sighed. “We both know that is your position talking, not  _ you  _ .”

“I  _ am  _ my position, my Lord,” James retorted with a quirk of his lips. Thomas laughed and took the book from James’ outstretched hand.

“ _ Be not astonished at new ideas; for it is well known to you that a thing does not therefore cease to be true because it is not accepted by many  _ …” He quoted, stroking the front cover of the book. “Is it not noble to fight for a cause, Lieutenant? To strive for something in spite of opposition?”

James pursed his lips again. “Yes, my Lord,” he paused and shook his head. “But if that opposition is overwhelming, would it not be wiser to retreat and gain favour for your own side?”

“A true tacticians answer!” Thomas laughed, placing the book on his desk and motioning for James to sit at his usual spot. He admired James’ steadfastness, the way he did not bend to anyone even if they  _ were  _ a lord. He admired James in most ways.

They left the book behind, moving to discuss Thomas’ interaction with one of his peers who had a rather romanticised view of piracy. Thomas watched as James’ blood got up at the idea of pirates being somehow  _ attractive  _ to the average person, his cheeks flushing and his eyes beginning to widen as he stated that pirates were ‘a danger to men, not something to be lusted after’.

“What  _ is  _ to be lusted after, then?” Thomas asked without thinking, his eyes firmly focussed on the plus pink of James’ lips.

James stopped, his cheeks reddening, and Thomas was transfixed as the Lieutenant blatantly  _ licked his lips  _ . It was maddening. They had barely known each other a month, and yet Thomas felt his infatuation growing moment by moment.

“Each man’s lust is different,” James said after a moment to compose himself. “A man may lust after gold, power, glory, women… Some men lust after-” He paused again and Thomas’ heart leaped into his throat. “Some men lust after companionship, after someone to understand them.”

They shared a glance, one that shook Thomas to his core.

“Is that what you want, James?” He asked. “To be understood?”

James frowned and furrowed his brow, something akin to pain in his features. “What I want... “ Thomas waited with baited breath for the next words, not sure what he wanted to hear but knowing he wanted to hear  _ something.  _ “What I want isn’t part of our work here, my Lord.”

And with that he closed, like a flower retreating into itself at dusk. Thomas resisted the urge to sigh, or to climb over the desk and shake him by the shoulders. Instead, he let James retreat and touched his own lip in lieu of reaching out.

-

The second time he lent a book to James it was with an ulterior motive. He had recently been gifted a copy of the Sonnets by Shakespeare, a playwright he was not entirely in love with but appreciated nonetheless, and had been surprised at how… flagrant some of the verses had been.

Miranda had laughed when he told her about them.

“What did you expect, love? Actors and poets are all rather liberal with their affections,” she had said with a smile. Thomas had read one particular sonnet ten times before giving the small book to James as reading material for his journey to Gloucestershire for a week.

Thomas was moody during that week. With James gone he found there was a hole in his days. He read his copy of  _ Meditations  _ again, visited Peter and his daughter, tried to focus on  _ anything  _ but how much he wanted to see James again. He even managed to make Miranda cross. She snapped at him one evening, telling him that they  _ both  _ missed him and that a week was merely seven days, not three months.

But he was waiting. He was waiting to see if James understood the verses, if he had any inkling of their hidden meanings. It was dangerous, to court someone secretly without their knowledge, especially if one was courting someone of the same gender. In spite of that, Thomas hungered for James to return and tell him what he thought.

“It’s rather flowery, my Lord,” James said with a quirk of his lips and a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t know you had a fancy for poetry.”

Thomas laughed. He had expected something as simple as that. “That isn’t an  _ opinion,  _ Lieutenant, that is an observation. Now tell me what you  _ think  _ about them!”

James paused and collected his thoughts as he always did before speaking his mind. “I think that each sonnet reveals a little more about how the writer feels about his fellow man. He clearly was in love, or lust, with the subjects. I admire his forwardness.”

“Do you have a favourite?” Thomas couldn’t help asking, the hope in his chest fit to  _ burst  _ from him at any moment with anticipation.

And when James opened his mouth to recite one, Thomas felt his emotions morph into something far more dangerous that petty infatuation and curiosity.

“ _ What is your substance, whereof are you made, _

_ That millions of strange shadows on you tend? _

_ Since every on hath, every one, one shade, _

_ And you but one, can every shadow lend. _

_ Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit _

_ Is poorly imitated after you; _

_ On Helen’s cheek all art of beauty set, _

_ And you in Grecian tires are painted new: _

_ Speak of the spring, and foison of the year, _

_ The one doth shadow of your beauty show, _

_ The other as your bounty doth appear; _

_ And you in every blessed shape we know. _

_  In all external grace you have some part, _

_  But you like non, non you, for constant heart _ .”

Thomas stared, far longer than was polite, his whole being focused on the soft way James had said the words. He longed to reach out, to touch the man who made his heart pound in his chest and his soul soar. James looked at him with those ever changing eyes of his and seemed to remember himself.

“It’s pretty. The shadows and the nature of beauty both intertwined with one another, how shadows do not detract from beauty but enhance it…” He paused, hands clasped firmly in his lap as he stared down at them. “Thinking on it, it’s no wonder you like it so much. You’re the sort of man to see beauty in anything, no matter how shadowed it may be.”

Thomas caught the sigh before it fled his lips and gave him away entirely.

“Why are you doing this?” James asked suddenly, his brows drawn together. Thomas blinked, taken aback by the question.

“I’m sorry?”

“Why… why  _ this?  _ ” He held up the little book as if it were a warrant for his arrest. “Why the books, the poems? Is it a test?”

“No!” Thomas stood, quickly moving towards him with his hands out. “I simply want to  _ know  _ you, James. You may be a liaison but I also consider you a- a friend. Is it so abhorrent to you that I should want to know more of your mind?”

James stared at him, his face so  _ open  _ and vulnerable that Thomas felt a desperate need to kiss him. “I- I’m sorry my Lord. I’m simply unused to friendship being offered in such a way.”

“Then understand this; you have a wonderful mind, you are intelligent and steadfast and unafraid to tell me when I’m being ridiculous. You’re my  _ friend  _ , and you may always speak your mind freely here. And because of this, there will be no more ‘my Lord’s in this house from now on, alright?” He took a deep breath, letting it out in a huff as he concluded. Though  _ love  _ began to bubble in his stomach when he looked at James, he simply wanted to keep near the man. He wanted James to trust him, to see  _ him  _ as a friend too.

James relaxed back into his chair, a soft smile falling over his lips. “Propriety truly has no place in this house, does it?” He said with a small laugh. “Alright, _ Thomas  _ , names it is.”

Thomas failed to ignore the stirring in his blood at the sound of his name coming from those beautiful lips.

-

They kissed not one month later. And though Miranda expressed her concern for their safety, she had told him she was happy to see him so elated. James didn’t spend the night after Peter and the others had left. He returned to his rooms and returned the next day, his cheeks flushed as he stepped into Thomas’ study.

“Thomas,” he said under his breath, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it as though he would fall. “Thomas, I-”

James paused, looking down. Then, in seconds he had crossed the room and stood by Thomas’ chair. His eyes were bright, so bright and green, and Thomas lifted a hand to touch his cheek. James made a broken sound and leaned into the touch.

“I had planned to let you down gently, to say it was my fault, but- but when I saw you I  _ needed  _ to-” James was breathing too quickly, his chest heaving as Thomas stood to cradle his neck.

“Hush, James, it’s alright. You’re safe here. Speak your mind.”

James’ breath evened out after a moment. He had closed his eyes, leaning into Thomas’ hands and his space as though it were his only source of strength. Thomas stroked his thumb over the sharp line of his jaw to calm him even though his own heart was fit to burst out of his chest.

“You  _ kissed  _ me,” James started. “I kissed you back, we- your  _ wife  _ was there! This is dangerous and I told your  _ father  _ to leave his own house, Thomas. _ Thomas  _ what have I done?” There was wetness in his eyes. Thomas hushed him gently and touched their foreheads together.

“Miranda is alright, she understands. She loves us both, James,” he felt James shudder against him and press closer. “My father is an enemy, yes, but there is little we cannot conquer together.”

A sharp laugh, more desperation than humour, left James’ lips. “God help me, Thomas,” he whispered, leaning to kiss Thomas again.

He kissed softly, gently, as though he feared he would  _ hurt  _ Thomas simply by touching him. His hands rose to grasp at Thomas’ shoulders and drag him closer until they were pressed together shoulder to hip. James made sounds against Thomas’ lips, into his mouth, as their lips parted and they tasted one another for the first time. Thomas felt something in him bloom and grow at the feel of James’ fingers in his hair. It was as though the sun itself had started to burn in his heart.

They parted reluctantly and Thomas hummed softly as James pressed their noses together before pulling away.

“I dare not do more, I’ll never leave if I kiss you more-” James huffed a breath and took Thomas’ hand, twining their fingers together. “But… This isn’t just some physical tryst, is it? Some lust to satisfy and forget.” He looked at Thomas with wide eyes, imploring and so beautiful he almost wept. The idea that he would leave James was  _impossible_ to him. Why would he let go of something so beautiful, so perfect?

“No. Gods, no,” Thomas whispered. “I’m a little more than just infatuated with you, James,” he admitted with a slight smile.

James smiled and the sun illuminated the room. “Good.”

-

In the low light of the early morning, Thomas traced patterns over James’ naked back. He followed the lines with his lips, with his tongue, moving down the length of James’ torso to the dip of his pelvis. He listened to the tired hum of pleasure as James shifted to let Thomas lay between his thighs. He tasted the salt of James’ sweat and moaned, his hands moving over soft pale skin.

James surrendered to him so sweetly. He arched his back as Thomas spread his legs wider, gasped as Thomas kissed and tasted him, tasting  _ himself  _ on James’ skin. They had been in bed all day and though they weren't the youngest of men they were trying their hardest to make some sort of record.

“Thomas,” James groaned even as his hips pushed down into the mattress and back against Thomas' lips, “come here, stop teasing me!”

He was helpless to obey.

Slowly he moved his way back up James’ body, laughing as James struggled to turn over and ended up on his side with Thomas at his back. Thomas ran his hands greedily down his lover’s body and touched every dip and curve he had come to know so well.

“ _Thus in this sad, but oh, too pleasing state! My soul can fix upon nothing but thee; thee it contemplates, admires, adores, nay depends on, trusts on you alone…_ ” Thomas whispered into his ear, his hand stroking down the length of James’ stomach and resting just above the hard line of his cock. James moaned, hips pushing back against Thomas.

“I said  _ stop  _ teasing me,” James gasped, reaching back to tug Thomas into a kiss.

They kissed lazily, taking pleasure in the simple act of  _ touching  _ one another. James reached back, grasping Thomas’ cock and pressing it to his arse, grinding his hips until Thomas pushed forward. They moaned together and James shivered in his arms as they moved together, just as slow as the kisses they shared.

An overwhelming sense of belonging filled Thomas as he thrust forward, as he kissed at the pale skin of James’ neck. He felt tears prick at his eyes. James made a low sound, a sob, and grabbed his hand.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thomas,  _ Thomas  _ , I love you-  _ fuck!”  _ James came with a low cry, his breath stuttering as he moved frantically against Thomas.

“I- I love you too James,” Thomas moaned as James tightened around him and buried his face in James’ shoulder as his orgasm rushed through him.

They lay together like that for a few minutes as their blood cooled, bodies entwined. James was smiling with his eyes shut as he ran his fingers through Thomas’ hair. Peace was all they knew in that moment and Thomas never wanted to forget it. He would forever remember the colour of James’ hair in the early morning light, the way his breath sounded as he settled back against Thomas’ chest.

The way he said “I love you”.


End file.
